Valentine's Day - A Saint or Pagan Goat Guts?

Since we are in the month of February, one of my friends wanted me to write a blog entry about Valentine’s Day and my thoughts about it. Well, what do you think a single woman who is not currently dating and who has never really been in love thinks about Valentine’s Day? (Do machine guns, hostages and high towers come to mind?)


The history of Valentine’s Day is a murky one (big surprise!). One legend contends that Valentine was a priest who served during the third century in Rome. When Emperor Claudius II decided that single men made better soldiers than those with wives and families, he outlawed marriage for young men — his crop of potential soldiers. Valentine, realizing the injustice of the decree, defied Claudius and continued to perform marriages for young lovers in secret. When Valentine's actions were discovered, Claudius ordered that he be put to death. (I am going with this story because the other one involves dead goats, and women being hit by the guts of said dead goats…..romantic much?)

Anyway, as I was thinking back to ‘all the boys I’ve loved before’ (some people quote Shakespeare…I like Willie Nelson) I can truly say none of them were really meant for me. My friends accuse me of being too picky and they could be right (FINE! They are right).

Even though I didn’t get a very good example of what a truly healthy married relationship looks like from my parents, I have been fortunate enough to have seen it in many of my friends.  Here are only a couple of examples.

My co-worker and commuting buddy (He’s like the smart brother I never got….and I have 2 brothers). His wife is battling breast cancer and she will be going through some treatments that will make her lose her hair. He has decided to shave his head along with hers. (Since he’s totally ‘Caucasian’ and sports a goatee, he is going to look less like a supportive husband and more like a ‘Skin Head’ white supremacist. When he picks me up to drive to work, I am going to look like the ‘Mexican’ he captured and is taking back to the ‘Brotherhood’). I asked him once if after so many years of marriage he still got butterflies when he saw his wife and if he still thought she was beautiful. (This was early in the morning so he just grumbled at me.) He waited until our drive home in the afternoon (and I didn’t even have to ask him again) to answer me with “She is like my right arm. I couldn’t picture my life without her.’ (I’d like to think that he still gets butterflies when he sees her…..although he might think it’s just stomach cramps from the Mexican food he ate).

Another great example is my best friend and her husband. They have been married 6 or 7 years (…they were married on March 15th – on The Ides of March when Julius Caesar was assassinated…how romantic!). They have been through some trials and tribulations’, but they both have become better people for it. I have seen the transformation in both of them. They have improved each other and not by trying to change who they are, but by living and fighting for their marriage. He has become such a great father and provider and she has become a great mother and wife. They are honest with each other, they are a team and they are not only parents or partners but very much still ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’. How can you not love that!

Well, bottom line, I no longer believe in love stories such as Bella and Edward (from ‘Twilight’ for those of you living under a rock), Romeo and Juliette or that couple from Titanic, but I still very much believe in the magic of love. The magic that makes a husband shave his head for his wife, volunteer to serve as a leader on his sons Boy Scout troupe, take on weekend side jobs to make ends meet or defend his family from anyone that might harm them.

So, what do I think about Valentine’s Day? I think it’s a great day to honor LOVE in all its forms.  Even though I may end up buying my own flowers and chocolates this year, that’s okay because I know that the magic is real, I’ve seen it, and I will not settle for anything less.

Crazy Basketball Parents

Bellow you will find a conversation I’ve had with my niece as to why I don’t like to sit with other parents during her basketball games.


Her: ‘So, why is it that you’d rather sit alone like a ‘loner’ than sit with the other parents?’

Me: ‘Because when I’ve made the effort to sit among them - they are crazy, freaky and screamy.’

Her: ‘You mean, you don’t cheer for me?’

Me: ‘Well of course I do, but in a dignified manner while using my ‘inside gymnasium voice’.'

Her: ‘I ask again, you’d rather look like a ‘losery-loner’ than join in the cheering and sit with other parents?’

Me: ‘I’d rather cheer appropriately and ‘look’ like I will continue to clothe and feed you even if you lose the game.’

Her: ‘What do you mean?’

Me: ‘I once sat next to a mother who SCREAMED at her child that if she wanted a ride back home she’d better make her free throws. To me, that’s just wrong!’

Her: ‘I see what you mean.’

Me: ‘Then on another occasion I sat next to another mother who kept insulting the referee and I was sure we were both going to get booted. Me, just for being stupid enough to sit by her (and I would have WELCOMED it)!

Her: ‘Okay, okay, I see what you mean.’

Me: ‘But you know what?’

Her: ‘What?’

Me: ‘I couldn’t love you more or be prouder if I had given birth to you AND your basketball myself.’

Her: ‘Tia, that’s gross.’

Me: ‘You asked.’

Update on my 2010 Goals

Since the beginning of the year I have started working on several of my 2010 Goals.  Here's an Update:

Between Jan and March – Lose 10lbs
Okay...not so much yet, but keep the faith.  Maybe you should also say a couple of prayers and possibly light some candles for me.

Try something new every quarter:  Make Earrings and Try to finish my scarf
A picture is worth a thousand words (and let's be honest, who has time to read 1000 words). Here is a picture of some earrings I've made and of the scarf I am crocheting (don't laugh - it's not done yet!)

Read a Classic

I haven't decided which book I am going to read yet, but I still have to get through a bag full of romance novels (Don't judge me...you don't know my life) before I can focus on a classic.

Exercise twice a week for 4 weeks straight

Please read above about the bag full of romance novels...nuff said!

Make a new friend

Does re-discovering old friends on Facebook count?  I don't know...hmm

Write a short story and submit to a magazine

I've already written a short story, but I have to clean it up because I don't think Readers Digest accepts 'F' bombs in their stories.

Take a class at the local Community College

.....Umm, I have a whole year people!

Be a better listener

What? Who wrote this one?  Fine.....I'll try, but I am going to have to set some ground rules for those peope who just won't stop talking....I'm just saying.

Read my bible and journal once a week

Not yet....Sorry God! Please don't strick me down, some of my friends have bigger sins that you might want to take care of first.  I'll name 'Names'.

Do or say something nice to someone, once a day

Some days are good......some day's .....not so good, but no one has lost their life (and that should get me some bonus points)

How my Pomeranian was once a Canary

‘Early coal mines did not feature ventilation systems, so miners would routinely bring a caged canary into new coal seams. Canaries are especially sensitive to methane and carbon monoxide, which made them ideal for detecting any dangerous gas build-ups. As long as the canary in a coal mine kept singing, the miners knew their air supply was safe. A dead canary in a coal mine signaled an immediate evacuation.’



Mia (9 year old Pomeranian)  =  Canary

Me (Single 32 year old and mother to none)  =  Methane and Carbon Monoxide filled coal mine.

Before Mia came into my life, I was a single and carefree woman. I worked, went to school, enjoyed the theater and was rarely home after work. For dinner I was eating out with friends, re-heating leftovers (from restaurants when I was out with friends) or eating a nice bowl of cereal (Tony the Tiger thought I was GRRREAT!!!). I lived in a beautiful studio apartment in one of the most prestigious neighborhoods. Life was blissful!

However, a few months earlier, I made the mistake of telling my mom how much I enjoyed dog sitting my friends Pomeranian and how much I wanted one of my own. Long story short, my mom calls to tell me she got me a Pomeranian, to go pick her up. WTF! (For my non-cussing friends this means ‘What the FUDGE!). It turns out she had been abandoned by her owners and my mom rescued her. How could I say no?

So, I drove three hours to go pick up my new dog. My step-brother's daughter had already named her Princess Mia (from the Princess Diary movies). Great! Now I owned a dog I didn’t know what to do with and she was named after a nerdy princess. Whatever!!

What I didn’t know then (that I do now) is that my Mia was sent to me by God. She was like the canary being taken into the coal mine to see if it would survive. She came to live with me one week before I moved into my newly purchased condo (good timing God!). She not only survived, she taught me how to become a better person.

She taught me how to stop being self centered and self absorbed. I now had a responsibility to go home after work to feed and walk her. In return she would greet me with excitement and kisses. It took us a while to get used to each other, but she has made my life better. I know she was sent to me to prepare the way for a greater challenge to come. One year later, my 12 year old niece came to live with me full time and now I have two someones to go feed and walk after work.  (Surprisingly enough the Humane Society refuses to kennel teenagers are readily as they do Pomeranians...just and FYI)

I don’t know what I would do without my Mia, she is such a joy. I am beyond grateful for having her in my life. Did I mention she is a total Diva and considers me her staff?

Mia, (she sleeps in her own bed next to mine) as she takes over my bed every morning and watches me get ready for work.  Someone has to go to work to keep her in 'Good Girl Cookies'.

My Childhood Dream to Become a Hooker (Yeah, you read right!)

As a little girl I begged my mother for ‘poufy’ dresses and patent leather shoes but the only pair of fancy shoes I owned were for Easter or special occasions and thus ‘off limits’. My mother usually made me wear pants and a Mexican brand of shoes called ‘Exorcista’. (Yep! They were as ugly as the name implies and they were made to last F O R E V E R!!) They were basically boxes with shoe laces (which fit my square and chubby ‘Fred Flintstone’ feet perfectly! …..Darn It!)


My poor mother, had to endure my constant begging for long dresses and pretty shoes, but she couldn’t indulge me. Since I was a little girl I suffer from what all my dad’s side of the family calls ‘rheumatism’ (as an adult I was tested, but according to the CDC I only have 3 out of the five criteria and so they can’t formally diagnose me. REALLY! Then why does it hurt so darn much…stupid CDC!!) . Having (what my Mexican family diagnosed as) ‘rheumatism’ basically means that my bones hurt whenever I am stressed, tired, or cold. I am able to deal with the pain much better now that I am an adult.  As a kid, I was always crying in pain at the end of the day, thus the warm pants and comfy ‘Exorcista’ (Mexican Devil) shoes.

Life sucked….until one faithful cloudy day as I was riding in the car with my parents we passed by Tulare street ……and that is when the clouds parted and I saw my future.

Women dressed in high, high heels, sparkly dresses, big poufy hair and lots (I mean LOTS) of make-up (It was the 70’s people!!). I was mesmerized! They were dressed for Easter….. And it wasn’t even Easter! To my five year old eyes…..they were BEAUTIFUL!

“Papi (which means ‘daddy’ in Spanish), what are those women doing?” I asked exuberantly.

My dad was thoughtful for a bit before he answered with, “They are working women, mija.”

‘Working Women’…well, my mom worked so she must be a ‘working woman’, but she never dressed like THAT!

Thus began my hope and dream of one day being a ‘Working Woman’ on Tulare Street in Fresno, California.

THANK GOD for un-fulfilled hopes and dreams!

It's a Matter of Friendship

Mexican saying : ‘Dime con quien andas y te dire quien eres.’ (Tell me who you ‘hang out’ with and I will tell you who you are). In short, the friends you select tell the story of the person you are.

Let me tell you about three friends that I could be defined by the most.

My best friend and I met when we were 18 years old and volunteering at the Catholic Church we both attended. I could tell you that it was her sense of humor or her dry wit that brought us close together, but it wasn’t. It was a tube of red Aveda lipstick and her ability to perfectly apply it without the use of a mirror…..It was like magic!

When I tried wearing red lipstick, it got all over my teeth and I looked like a hooker (or it might have been the baby blue eye shadow and enough mascara to put Tammy Fay Baker to shame…. it was the 80’s!). 20 years later we are still best friends. She knows who I am because we were both raised the same way. We share a heritage and a cultural background that allows us to understand each. As girls we celebrated life as only youth can. Now, as grown women, our friendship has only gotten stronger. She is a fabulous wife and mother (For a woman with no patience and the tendency for pre-meditation….this is a shocker!). She has this great ability to eloquently cuss in two languages (then she wonders why she has to go to a teacher-parent conference when her kid is yelling the ‘F’ word in the playground….Geez, I wonder why?). She is amazing with money and she is a great judge of character. She tells me ‘You Suck’ when she knows I am right and ‘Kiss my Ass’ when she doesn’t agree with me…..gotta love her! (Did I mention she is tall, super-model thin and gorgeous….. I really should hate her). Bottom line – I know she would do anything for me and I would do anything for her (even help her hide the bodies..wink! wink!). Can you believe we met at church?


My second friend and I met at work when I was 23. I don’t know if we became friends because we sat right across from each other for four years or because I am a political ‘fence sitter’ and I was a challenge to her (She is an NRA card carrying Republican who can kick your butt in any political debate). Her father is a Southern Black gentleman, her mother Korean and, of course, she’s and exotic beauty (I really should start hanging out with ugly fat people). I owe her my ability to be a ‘positive’ thinker. When I would blather on about my problems, she would turn around and re-frame them for me in a more positive light. I don’t even know if she understands how much that skill has meant to me throughout my adulthood or how well it has served me. Every year for my birthday she gives me the best birthday cards EVER (they all say I am pretty or gorgeous….and I actually believe them). She’s great to argue with, she is a non-apologetic ‘Treky’, she is the one person I can discuss foreign films with and best of all she is as much of a book nerd as I am…possibly even bigger (she understands that reading 2 or 3 books at once is not an ‘odd’ thing).


The third friend I want to tell you about is, hands down, a much better person than I am. She is the furthest removed from my Mexican heritage and thus is appalled by some of the rules and regulations I set down for my niece. She would probably report me to CPS if she wasn’t my friend. We met (at work) when she breezed into my office, plopped herself down next to my desk and started talking about ways we could improve what we did. “Who the Hell do you think you are?” is what I wanted to ask but instead went with ‘Excuse me, who are you and why are you in my office?” …or something to that effect.


So, we didn’t hit it off right away but several months later (after I had made fun of her thong underwear) we became great friends. (YES, you’ve guessed it! She is thin, pretty and this one actually has blond streaks in her hair and perfectly manicured nails….WTF? Why can’t I have UGLY friends!!!) She, above anyone else, knows how to deal with the ‘real’ me. She is patient, forgiving, caring and I don’t know why she hangs out with me but I know am a better person for it.


When we argue and take out the swords (a la ‘Highlander’ style) and shout ‘There can be only one!” as we battle to the death - she is always the first one to come and apologize to me. You might think that would make me feel like ‘the winner’, but it actually just humbles me and shows me ‘how’ a great human should act. She tells me I have a hard heart (because I don’t like to cry)…..but that’s okay because I tell her she is a sissy cry baby…..this seems to work well for both of us.


I am blessed to have them in my life (although, I don’t know how lucky they feel to have me in theirs)

My Brother

My brother and I are total opposites, as I am sure, many siblings are. While he was born in the gloom of winter, I was born in the floral fragrance of spring. While my poor mother struggled to find me ‘extra husky’ pants at Sears (which she had to hem because I was chubbier than I was tall) she breezed through the ‘extra slim’ section of boy’s Wrangler jeans. When I had to struggle with hours of homework to get good grades, all my brother had to do was show up to class. I have always liked having only a few close friends, he was friends with everyone (stoners, surfers, jocks, cholos etc..).

I am almost exactly 1 year and 9 months older than him. One day when he was 4 and I was 6 years old, I remember sitting under the kitchen table and telling him sad stories about the poor naked baby on the Pampers diaper package. I would tell him that he was only wearing diapers because he didn’t have any parents and nobody loved him. My mom finally made me stop with the stories so he would stop crying. When I got chicken pox at 6 years old, I was burning up with fever and he would wet his little hands and come and put them on my feet to make me feel better. His caring heart was always better than mine.

As teenagers, I would talk back to my mother (as much as a Mexican daughter can talk back to a mother who had, and still has, a deadly aim with her chancla (shoe)). He was always very respectful. He was a good and loyal friend and he never had a bad word to say about anyone. Me….. Not so much.

From the day my parents brought him home from the hospital, I was his protector (I even beat up a kid in front of a church once, after school, because he was picking on my brother. I arrived home with one ponytail on top of my head while the other was below my ear). I ask the Lord to protect him every day while I now do my best to protect his daughter.

My brother is currently serving 26 years in a Federal Prison for robbing banks. He deserves to be there. My mother, my father, my niece, my brother and I know this is true. He put lives in danger. HE deserves to be there, but WE don’t, and yet part of each of our hearts lives in there with him. I have not seen him in over 10 years and I only speak to him when absolutely necessary. He sends me mother and father day’s cards because he says I am both mother and father to his child.

So, why am I telling you this story today? Well, you see, today is his birthday and I miss my brother.

I spend 364 days hating him for the man he became and for what he has done to himself and to us. However, today ….today it helps to remember the happy boy that he was so I can tell his daughter something about him…….something good about him.

Shut Up Already!

Have you ever met someone who rubs you the wrong way because they have one or more of the following qualities: pompous, know-it-all, self-righteous, loud, advice giving when not asked, abrupt or they just don’t know when to ‘shut up’?


Well here’s my story

A while back I met a really nice sales lady at one of the stores I usually shop in. We hit it off right away because, like me, she too is raising her niece on her own. However, unlike me, she has had the experience of having and raising her own children before her niece came along. She has always been very friendly and we often share our ‘niece’ stories.

So, the other day I walked into the store and saw her at the cash register helping a line of customers. I said my usual hello and started shopping. One thing you have to know about me when I am shopping is that I am like the lead greyhound at the dog races (okay, more like a sheep dog at the races – if they raced sheep dogs). I am F O C U S E D. I see NO ONE, I talk to NO ONE, I hear NO ONE. If you put a piece of metal in front of my eyes I can guarantee you my laser focused vision would cut a whole right through it.

Well, as I was coming around the final lap, the sales lady, who was no longer busy, said “Oh, I saw you the other day at another store but you ignored me”. When I looked up to meet her eyes I responded by saying “I usually ignore everyone when I am shopping”. WHAT? Did I just really say that to the really nice sales lady? I tried backtracking by trying to nicely explain what I meant, but the damage was done. I sounded like a haughty B- I -T -C –H. Yet, I was not done! I could tell I had hurt her feelings, but she remained professional. As she was ringing up my items she asked if I would like to open a store credit card to help her out. She needed one more to meet her quota, to which I responded by saying “No, people are crazy to have so many store cards - they charge an arm and a leg in interest.” What! I did it again!! What the heck was wrong with me? So at this point any sane person would take her purchases and just walk away, but not ME.

I knew I had hurt her feelings and I was determined to make things right by asking her about her niece. Her body language and demeanor told me I should have walked away. I am highly trained to read body language (I have watched all the episodes of ‘Lie to Me’ and ‘NCIS’). However, she remained professional and told me her niece wanted to be a nurse, at which I said “Well, make sure she has a back up career because one of my friends spent 2 years trying to get into nursing school only to give it up after she had to give an old man a sponge bath.” WTF? I heard the words that were coming out of my mouth in slow motion and I kept yelling at myself ‘Shut Up! Shut Up! SHUT UP!”, but I would not shut up. It was like causing and watching a train wreck all at the same time. By this time, she just turned around and ignored me.

I have yet to go back to that store, but I have to go back because I need new ‘bloomers’ and that’s the only place that have the ones I like.

I am not sure how I am going to fix the situation, but I can tell whoever is reading this that I have been rightly ‘put in my place’ and humbled by this experience. Next time I am faced with an annoying babbling idiot I will know how they really feel. I will do them a solid and give them a quick slap and firmly tell them to ‘Shut Up’….I am sure they will thank me for it later.

The 'Old School Mexican' Way

Not having been married yet, and a good Mexican daughter, I do not have any children of my own but I am blessed to be raising my younger brother's daughter. Believe me when I tell you that I not always considered myself 'blessed' to be a single aunt. The word I used starts with an 'F'.

I became a single aunt 5 years ago when my brother's career path led him to become a tenant at a Federal Pen and his only child's mother the user of 'none too legal' substances. I picked her up off the streets 3 days before Christmas. I had no experience in raising children, and she had no experience in having a normal childhood. As far as I could tell, we were both (insert F word in the past tense here)!

I soon realized I had inherited a kid who had been raised by 'wolves'. I know that sounds mean, but she would actually growl at me when she couldn't find the words to express her frustrations. When we ate she would hunch over her food with a protective arm around her plate. She didn't know how to properly take a shower and I don't think she owned her own toothbrush in months. I didn't know whether to hug her or to pet her.

However, by the grace of God, one day I knew what I had to do. First I had to wipe away the tears (mine, not hers..... she never cried), and decided to go 'Old School Mexican' on her. This is what I told her:

"I will not feel sorry for you. You have crappy parents and right now a messed up life, but you also have an aunt, a grandmother and grandfather who love and believe in you. "

"Don't try to out-bitch me because it won't work. I have been a bitch much longer than you have and I will win every time."

"You can choose to be plumbing and allow other people's shit to go through you or you can decide to know how much you are worth and live your life as such." (I actually got his one from an episode of CSI...I worked with what I knew)

"I am not one of your school friends, you will speak to me with respect. The things I do for you are not for you to 'like' me, but to teach you to be an educated woman with a clear moral compass."

When she asked if I could buy her a belt and a t-shirt with skull and cross bones my replay was "Sure, when I start sending you to school in Hell.". Parents - remember that you do have a say in how your kids dress!!

Once in church, the pastor was talking about a runaway girl who was brought back home by police officers, at that moment I leaned in to my niece's ear and whispered "If you ever run away make sure to take all your stuff and run far and fast because if the police find you and bring you back to me....you are dead!". She said "Tia (which means 'aunt' in Spanish), we are in church." I said "Yes I know, just so you know I mean what I say."

Her second day as a high school freshman she ditched her 2nd period class. She hid this from me by deleting the message left by the school, however, she didn't take into consideration that we had a cheap answering machine and it actually brought the deleted message back (I took the opportunity to teach her about karma and how it can come back and bite her in the ass). When I heard the message she got 1 week of no TV or Music (which at her age was like air and water), then I marched her into her principals office on Monday morning to rat her out so they could impose their punishment on her as well. The lesson of action and re-action.

I can go on and on with these types of stories, but the bottom line is that she knows I love her (to death if necessary) and she knows I am her rock until she knows how to become her own rock. She knows I am there for every basketball game, I cried with pride when she received her Athletic and Scholar Letter, I celebrate her Honor Role status, I follow-up with teachers on her grades, I take her to the library to help with her English comprehension skills, I learned how to cook for her (for this alone I should be allowed into heaven), I love her and she knows that with every one of my words and actions.

She is currently a Senior in High School and she has already been accepted to both Fresno State and Cal State Northridge in Mechanical Engineering.

The 'Old School Mexican' as far as I am concerned is about tough love, and the earning of trust, love and respect by modeling a life filled with morality and character. It is about learning the hard way, if learning the hard way is what you need. It's about love and the sacrifices a parent makes to make sure the life of their children is better than their own.

She still thinks I am a little crazy, and she never knows when I might go a little 'Hannibal Lecter' on her (this keeps her on her toes), but that's okay, because I know she loves me (at least that's what the heart necklace she gave me last Christmas says).

New Year - New Possibilities

Hello and welcome to my newly birthed blog - 'Chica Fab'. As part of my 'New Year' goals (not resolutions!) I decided to be a little braver this year and actually document what I want for myself and what I plan to do to make this year a great one. Here are my 2010 Goals:

• Between Jan and March – Lose 10lbs
• Try something new every quarter
  examples: Take a dancing class , Jewelry Making, Cook a new recipe, Smile and say hello to people I don’t know, Create a new recipe, Make a video and upload to youtube, Start a blog Read a book in Spanish, Paint a water color, Complete crocheting my scarf
• Read a Classic
• Exercise twice a week for 4 weeks straight
• Make a new friend
• Write a short story and submit to a magazine
• Take a class at the local Community College
• Be a better listener
• Read my bible and journal once a week
• Do or say something nice to someone, once a day

Not too difficult right? Well, let me get started.....as soon as I hit post, I've actually completed 1 goal already.